The fire in the wolves' den had died down to embers by dawn, but Aradia had not slept. She sat wrapped in her cloak, staring into the dying glow, her body humming with restless energy. Every time she closed her eyes, she saw him—Kael, towering and blood-soaked, his green eyes alight with savage hunger, his touch burning her skin even in memory.
It terrified her. Not just his power, but hers.
Lightning. Storms. Fire. She had unleashed them like a goddess of destruction, yet she had no control. The hunters had fled because of her, but what if the next time, she burned friend and foe alike? What if her fire consumed everything?
A hand touched her shoulder. She stiffened.
"It is only me," Kael murmured, his voice rough with exhaustion.
She looked up. His tan skin was streaked with dried blood, his dreadlocks damp from melted snow, his body a tapestry of bruises and claw marks. Even wounded, he looked impossibly strong, like the kind of man who could carry the world on his back.
"You should be resting," she whispered.
"So should you." He crouched beside her, green eyes studying her face as though searching for something she would not give him. "The pack murmurs. Some fear you. Others crave your power. But all of them know now that you belong to me."
Her pulse quickened. "I do not belong to anyone."
His lips curved, not in mockery but in certainty. "The bond grows whether you fight it or not. Blood calls to blood. Fire calls to moon. You are mine, Aradia."
Before she could retort, a howl split the air outside the den. Not one of warning. One of announcement.
The wolves stirred, rising from their beds of furs. Kael's body tensed as he stood, his presence filling the cavern like thunderclouds before a storm.
A stranger entered the den.
He was tall, though not as massive as Kael. His hair shone copper-red, gleaming like fire in the torchlight, and his eyes were a golden amber, sharp and dangerous. He wore no furs, no armor, only a long dark coat dusted with frost, and when his gaze landed on Aradia, it lingered too long.
"Witch," he said, his voice smooth as silk, curling with intrigue. "So the whispers were true."
Kael stepped forward, his body coiled like a predator. "Ronan," he growled.
The copper-haired man smiled faintly, ignoring the Alpha's threat. His gaze never left Aradia. "The villagers speak of a woman who commands storms. The hunters tell tales of fire that melts steel. I thought them madness. But here you are."
Aradia's throat tightened. "Who are you?"
"An ally," he said smoothly. "If you wish it." His eyes glinted as he bowed low, but it was no gesture of respect. It was a provocation, as if daring Kael to object.
Kael's growl vibrated through the den. "Leave."
"Not yet," Ronan countered, his smile widening. "I came to warn you. The hunters who bled in the snow? They were not alone. More come. And not just men this time." His gaze flicked back to Aradia, hungry, calculating. "They have heard of you, witch. And they want what you carry inside."
Her breath caught. "What do you mean?"
But Ronan only smiled, his amber eyes glittering like a predator's. "Ask your Alpha, little witch. If he has not told you already, then perhaps he fears the truth."
Kael lunged.
In a blink, Ronan was gone, slipping back into the shadows of the forest, his laughter echoing behind him like a blade across glass.
Aradia turned to Kael, her heart racing. "What truth?"
Kael's jaw tightened, his green eyes burning with rage and something darker fear.
"Not now," he growled.
But Aradia knew then: he was keeping something from her. Something that might shatter everything.